Inferno
by AnastaziaDanielle
Summary: Sam has to face his fear of fire. Can he put his fears aside and step up to help when he's needed? Set early in the series.


Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural, but I wouldn't mind owning the boys!

Inferno

"Sam, we don't even know if this thing's supernatural. It could just be some natural occurrence." Dean raised the hood on Baby and examined the parts in front of him. His girl wasn't running as smoothly as she should, and he planned on spending the afternoon figuring out why. "I'm not convinced we have a case here."

Sam sighed. Several bodies had been found mauled in the woods nearby. Some of the "crime scenes" were almost ritualistic in nature. He needed more research and more evidence in order to determine if there was a case in this small midwestern town. "Well, I'm going to the library while you work on the car."

Dean barely glanced up at him. Instead, he crooned to his car. "I'll figure this out, Baby, and have you purring down the road in no time."

Sam stopped by the motel office to get directions to the library and then started down the nearest street. The motel manager assured him that the town's small library was about a fifteen minutes walk away, but cautioned him not to expect too much.

Sam swung by the room to grab his laptop. He tucked a notebook and a pen into the laptop's case and headed toward the library. Dean was still immersed under the Impala's hood.

Sam started off down the main street where the motel was located and then cut off down a residential street that led to the center of town. Sam scrolled through the evidence in his mind as he walked, trying to decide the direction his research was going to take once he reached the library.

After several blocks, a whiff of smoke in the air caught his attention. He turned and scanned the houses along the street, his eyes widening as he spotted smoke spilling from the side window of a little blue house.

Fire. Sam hated it. The thought of it even made him feel sick. Visions of Jessica burning on the ceiling flooded his mind and he nearly kept walking. He tugged his cell phone out of his pocket and dialed for help, giving the address as he looked up and down the street and so no one around. Deciding he couldn't keep walking until he knew everyone was out of the house, he figured he should go knock on the door to make sure no one was home.

Horror filled Sam as he heard screams coming from the upstairs window of the small blue house. Smoke billowed from the downstairs windows as the fire greedily consumed the older home. Forcing his feet to move, Sam ran across the cracked, black pavement of the street. Acrid smoke filled his nostrils and brought back visions of Jessica pinned, gutted and burning, to the ceiling of their apartment. He felt like he was going to vomit, but forced himself to focus on the children screaming at him for help.

There were three children crowded into the open window, all of them coughing between screams as tears streamed down their cheeks. Sam lifted his arms. "Jump! I'll catch you," he promised.

The child who appeared to be the oldest, a boy, tried to convince the little girl to jump. She shook her head frantically. "No! I don't wanna fall," she choked out.

"I promise I won't drop you," Sam urged her. She looked to be about seven or eight years old, and he knew he could catch her and the smallest boy who was around three or four.

A scuffling noise behind him drew his attention. A man had emerged from the house next door and was unlatching the gate to get into his backyard. "Getting a ladder," he tossed over his shoulder without taking the time to look back.

"Just hang on," Sam called up the the children. "We're going to get you out."

"Hurry," the older boy choked, his breathing coming in ragged gasps.

Sam scurried to help the neighbor get the ladder in position beneath the window.

"Hate heights," the man grumbled. "Can you go up there while I hold the ladder?"

Sam nodded and forced down the terror that rose inside him as smoke began to billow out into the air around them. "I'm coming up to get you," he called to the three children. He couldn't let them die in a fiery grave, not after what had happened to his mother and Jessica. He placed his foot on the bottom rung of the ladder and climbed steadily toward the window.

"Take them first," the oldest boy croaked, gesturing to his younger siblings, even though Sam could tell the child was terrified.

Holding onto the ladder tightly with one arm, Sam reached out and grabbed the smallest boy. The child gripped the hunter's flannel shirt desperately as Sam began to descend the ladder. "You're okay now," Sam soothed.

It only took a few second to pass the boy off to the neighbor holding the ladder, and Sam was climbing again. The older brother had the little girl ready for him. She was sobbing and grasping her brother's arm. "I'm scared," she cried.

"I know," Sam soothed as he worked to pry the girl's fingers from her brother's sleeve. "But we have to hurry so I can come back and get your brother out." He watched as the girl digested that information. She pressed her lips together and nodded although her eyes were wide with fear. Her arms wrapped around Sam like an octopus as he lifted her from the window.

Sam clung desperately to the ladder as the child wrapped herself around his body. As he descended the ladder for the second time he heard sirens in the distance and was relieved that help was on the way.

The neighbor had handed the youngest boy off to another neighbor and it took him a moment to disentangle the little girl from around Sam. As soon as he was free, Sam climbed the ladder for the last time. The boy was perched in the windowsill gasping and choking. The child all but collapsed against Sam as he took him in his free arm and climbed down the ladder for the last time.

As he reached the bottom, Sam felt the child go limp in his arms. He hurried away from the house to the safety of the shade beneath a tree in a neighbor's yard where the other kids were. He placed the boy on the ground and checked to see if he was breathing. His breaths were raspy, but steady. Sam looked up at the little girl. "Where are your parents? Is anyone else in the house?" Now that the three children were safe for the moment, Sam could think clearly.

The little girl's eyes widened in horror. "Sadie!"

Sam lurched to his feet. The firetrucks had yet to arrive although the sirens were louder. "Is Sadie a pet?"

The little girl shook her head. "No, my baby sister. She's sleepin' in Momma's room. Momma's at the store gettin' groceries."

Sam's eyes widened in horror as he glanced back at the house. Smoke was pouring out of all of the windows now and flames licked through the windows on the right side of the house. "Where's your Momma's room, sweetie? Is it upstairs?"

The little girl shook her head. "No, it downstairs beside the living room." She clawed at Sam's arm with desperate fingers. "You have to get my baby sister out!"

Sam nodded and turned toward the house. "Where's the baby sleeping in your momma's room? Is she in your mom's bed?" Memories of fire sliced through his mind and he wanted to turn and run in the other direction, but he couldn't leave that baby to burn to death in the house.

"She's in the crib. It's next to momma's bed." The little girl was sobbing and holding her younger brother tucked closely against her side. "Please get Sadie out," she begged.

The neighbor was shouting at him. "You can't go in there! Wait for the fire department!"

"That baby has been in there too long already," Sam shot back as he tugged his t-shirt up over his nose to help block out smoke. "Show me which window is your mom's bedroom," he instructed the little girl.

With the neighbor following them, she directed Sam around the side of the house and pointed to the third window toward the back. The neighbor grabbed the little girl's hand and pulled her away from the burning house as Sam moved forward and hoisted himself up on the windowsill. The black smoke clouding around him took his breath away, but he forced himself forward into the small bedroom. He couldn't see anything and his eyes watered as if he was crying. Sam dropped to his knees and inched his way forward, feeling with his hands. He found a bed to his left.

Moving forward slowly, Sam kept his hand on the bed. He could hear the fire snapping and popping out in the hallway and the impulse to turn and jump back out of the window was strong. Instead, he forced himself forward. He had to be close now.

The bed ended and when he moved forward another few inches, his fingers wrapped around the wooden leg of what he hoped was the crib. Relief flooded him as his fingers traced the wooden bars of the baby's bed. Pushing himself to his feet, he reached inside the crib and felt around until his fingers brushed against the baby huddled in the corner of the bed, her small body limp. Fear clogged this throat as he dropped back to the floor with the baby cradled to his chest with one hand.

Feeling back along the crib, he moved slowly until he found the bed to guide him back to the window. The smoke was thicker now, and it was getting harder to breathe. Something fell in the hallway making the whole house shake. Sam kept inching forward, knowing the window had to be close. Smoke filled his nostrils and his lungs protested the lack of oxygen. He coughed, but couldn't seem to drag anymore air into his desperate lungs. His chest burned with the effort and he crawled frantically forward.

He finally felt the wall in front of him and it took all of his remaining strength to force himself to his knees without dropping the baby he still held cradled against him. Suddenly, strong arms were reaching in to take the baby from his grasp. Then he felt himself gripped around the arms and pulled forward. Blessedly cooler air brushed his face as firefighters tugged his body from the house.

He collapsed on the grass, choking for air. He tried to brace himself on his arms, but they collapsed beneath him and his face landed in the scratchy, green grass. Sam sucked in great lungfuls of oxygen, but he couldn't seem to get it to his lungs. He choked and coughed until he felt himself being rolled on his back. His thoughts were foggy from lack of air as a mask was pressed over his face. He fought against the constricting feeling of it, but strong arms held his hands down at his side.

Suddenly, Sam found that, more than anything, he wanted his brother. "De…" he forced out, fighting harder to get the mask off his face.

"Keep that on now, sir," a kind voice spoke, "You inhaled quite a bit of smoke."

Sam changed tactics and grabbed at the man's arm.

The paramedic took the mask off and leaned over Sam. "What is it, sir?"

"My broth-" Sam broke off with a hacking cough and the mask was pressed back over his face.

"Do you need me to contact your brother for you?" The paramedic was already checking Sam's pockets for a cell phone as the hunter nodded from beneath his mask. The man checked the phone to see several texts and two missed calls from someone named Dean.

"Dean your brother?"

Sam nodded and his body slumped with relief as he watched the man attempt to call Dean with Sam's cell phone. Sam's foggy mind was still able to imagine what Dean's reaction would be, and he wasn't wrong.

Dean growled as he glanced at the screen on his phone. "Finally," he grumbled as he answered. "You'd better have a good reason for not answering my texts and calls, Sam," he ground out, frustrated.

"Is this Dean?"

The oldest Winchester tensed at the sound of the unfamiliar voice. "Who's this? Where's my brother?"

"Your brother wanted me to call you. He was a witness to a house fire and helped the children get out of the house. He was injured in the process."

Dean didn't let the man finish his explanation. "Where is he? Where's my brother?"

The man rattled off an address. "I'll be right there," Dean promised. "Tell Sammy I'm coming." Dean slammed Baby's hood shut and tossed the tools into the backseat before running into the motel's office to get directions to the address he'd been given.

"Your brother said he's coming," the paramedic reassured Sam as he placed the cell phone on the young man's chest. Sam's hand closed around it like a vise, but he was no longer fighting the oxygen mask over his face. Dean was coming, and that was all that mattered.

Sam floated in and out, coughing sporadically even as the clean oxygen flowed into his lungs. He felt himself being lifted onto a stretcher. Although he didn't want to go to a hospital, he found himself too weak to protest. Just as the stretcher was raised to its full height, Sam's body tensed as he heard his brother calling his name.

"SAM! SAMMY!" Dean shoved past police officers and firefighters. "Where's my brother?"

"It's all right," Sam heard someone calling out. "We called him. Let him through."

Finding energy he didn't know he possessed, Sam reached up a shaky hand to pull the mask off his face. "De-" he choked out.

"Leave that there, little brother," Dean's deep voice was suddenly right beside him, his capable hand pressing the oxygen mask back over Sam's face. "You need it."

Sam settled and let his brother take over. He was able to fully relax now that Dean was here.

"Your brother is quite the hero, sir," the paramedic explained to Dean. "He helped rescue the three older kids and then went into the house for the baby." The paramedic's words held admiration for the young man on the stretcher.

Dean nodded, knowing how difficult it was for Sam to even get near the house because of the fires that had claimed the lives of their mother and Sam's girlfriend. He smoothed Sam's sweaty, gritty, brown hair back from his forehead. "Are they all okay?" Dean knew that would the first question out of Sam's mouth once he was more coherent.

"The little girl and the four-year-old are fine, just a bit shaken up. The older boy and the baby are on their way to the hospital for smoke inhalation. If your brother hadn't been willing to help, we'd be looking at a completely different result."

"Hear that, Sam," Dean murmured. "You did good, little brother."

Sam nodded, his thoughts foggy, before his eyes drooped closed. Dean was here now; he would take care of everything.

It was the annoying tickle in his throat that woke him. Sam swallowed and winced, fighting back the urge to cough. He couldn't control it, however, and he coughed until he gagged and his chest burned.

"Easy, Sam," Dean soothed, suddenly beside his brother with his hand on his shoulder. He brought a straw up to Sam's mouth and the younger brother took a sip of cool water that felt so good going down his scratchy throat.

Sam relaxed back against the pillow and rubbed at his nose.

"Leave that alone," Dean urged. "You still need the oxygen."

Sam realized that a nasal cannula was placed beneath his nose. His hand dropped to his side and he blinked as memories flooded back to him. "The kids?" His voice was scratchy from the smoke inhalation.

Dean removed his hand from his brother's shoulder and settled into the chair he had pulled up beside the bed. "The older boy was admitted and will be staying a day or two for breathing treatments. He has asthma, so this was extra hard on his lungs."

Sam nodded, and Dean continued.

"The little girl and the four-year-old are fine, just some irritation in their throats and eyes from the smoke. The baby, well, she was in there longer than everyone else and in more concentrated smoke."

Sam frowned. "Is she okay?"

"They admitted her," Dean explained, "and are running some tests. We'll know more later. The mother promised to keep me updated. She came down to thank you a little while ago, but you were still out cold."

"I should have been faster. I should have-"

Dean cut him off. "The neighbor told me what happened. You did everything you could, Sam. You didn't even know the baby was in there, and when you did, you went right in to save her. If you hadn't been there, she would have died."

Sam let his head flop back on the pillow as his brain analyzed the situation. Dean kept quiet, turned the television, and flipped channels until he found a western they'd both seen many times over. He knew Sam was still blaming himself, but Dean would do everything in his power to ensure that he changed Sam's mind about the whole situation.

Later that evening, just as Sam was being discharged to go home, someone in the doorway cleared their throat causing the brothers to look up from where Dean was helping Sam sit on the side of the bed so he could get his shoes on. A young woman stood there with the little girl and the four-year-old Sam had saved from the fire. "Is this a good time?" the woman asked as she looked at Dean.

"Come on in," he smiled as his hand landed on Sam's shoulder. "Sam, this is Marilyn," he told his brother as he pointed at the young woman. "These are her kids, Elise and Tony."

The woman's eyes filled with tears as she approached Sam and held out her hand. He took it and then the next thing he knew, he was engulfed in a tight hug. "Thank you for saving my children," she choked out, her body shaking with barely contained sobs. Sam just held her, his own throat tightening with emotion.

Finally, the woman pulled back and motioned the children over. The little girl stepped forward, but her brother hung back behind her. Shyly, the girl held a piece of paper out toward Sam. "I made you this," she nearly whispered as he took it from her fingers. "Thank you for saving us."

"I wish I could have been faster," Sam began, but Marilyn immediately hushed him.

"You stop that! You saved my children and you did your very best. My neighbor told me everything. It's my own fault for deciding it would be okay to run to the store up the street for ten minutes." She wiped at tears. "I'll never forgive myself for that, but you have nothing to be sorry for or feel guilty over."

Sam swallowed hard and managed a brief nod before looking down at the paper the little girl had handed to him. There was a smiling yellow sun in the sky. Green grass covered the bottom of the page and there were four people holding hands. Sam looked up at the little girl, and she stepped closer to point at the page.

"That's me; that's my brother Tony; that's my brother Michael holding Sadie; the tall one there is you." She smiled. "You're really tall," she informed Sam with wide eyes.

Sam huffed a small laugh. "Yeah, I am." He studied the picture. "This is beautiful, Elise. Thank you."

She blushed, but smiled proudly. "My big brother wanted to make you a card, but the doctors made him stay in bed and rest. He was mad."

Sam nodded in understanding. "Big brothers get grumpy like that sometimes," he told her as he nodded towards Dean.

The girl's eyes widened. "Is he your big brother?"

Sam nodded with a smile. "But I grew up to be taller than him even though he's older." He winker at her.

Elise laughed. "That's silly."

Dean scowled at Sam as Marilyn chuckled.

"We need to get back to sit with the baby," she explained as she took her son's hand.

"Can we check with you later to see how the kids are doing?" Sam asked.

Marilyn nodded. "Certainly, your brother has my number, and thank you again, Sam." She took the children and left as Dean folded Sam's hospital paperwork and tucked it into his pocket.

The nurse rolled a wheelchair in at that moment. "You ready, Mr. Wilcox?"

Sam nodded. "Yes, I am ready to get out of here."

Dean tugged his car keys out. "I'm going to go get Baby. I'll meet you at the front door."

A few minutes later, Sam sighed happily as he settled himself into the Impala's front seat.

Dean looked over at his brother. "You okay?" he asked.

Sam nodded. "Yeah." He cleared his throat and ignored the worried glance Dean shot him.

Dean parked the Impala at the motel and headed for the manager's office.

"Where are you going?" Sam called after him as he got out of the car.

"I'm gonna go pay for an extra night. You need the rest, and we never figured out if there was a case here or not." Dean shrugged and turned back toward the office. "Go on into the room and grab a shower," he tossed over his shoulder.

Sam smiled. His no chick flick moments brother was concerned for him. Grabbing some sweats and a t-shirt from his duffle, Sam showered and let the hot water sooth his aching muscles. The steam also helped his sore throat. When he exited the bathroom, Dean was stretched out on his bed closest to the door.

Sam stretched out on his own bed with a happy sigh. It felt so good to lie down. He flung an arm over his eyes to block out the light from the television. "I'll get to the research tomorrow."

"Get some rest, Sam. Worry about the research later," Dean assured him.

Sam yawned and mumbled a reply of assent. He was exhausted. Rolling over on his side, Sam curled into his pillow and was fast asleep in mere moments.

Dean stared at his little brother's back. For the third time in Sam's life, he'd nearly lost him to a fire. Dean felt sick to his stomach at the thought. The day could have had a very different ending. He could be in this room all alone tonight, and Sam could be in the town morgue. Shaking the morbid thoughts away, Dean reassured himself that Sam was fine for now and that he would protect him from here on out. Nothing bad would happen to him.

Dean turned the television off and turned on his side so that he could watch his little brother. His eyes burned with exhaustion, but sleep wouldn't come. Worry dug a deep pit in his stomach. A dark cloud seemed to be hanging over Sam, and Dean didn't know what to do about it. "I'll protect you, little brother," he murmured. "I promise."

End


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